


Watch You Watch Me (Reprise)

by Not_You



Series: Watching [10]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Body Image, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dildos, Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 03:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: It only takes Fury another five days or so to work up his nerve, and Clint is proud of him.  He's even more proud of Phil for quietly ordering a pair of leather pants with a convenient ass-zipper.  They're more than a little silly, but if Fury is going to start taking his rightful place as the center of attention every once in a while, he's going to need them.





	1. Chapter 1

It only takes Fury another five days or so to work up his nerve, and Clint is proud of him. He's even more proud of Phil for quietly ordering a pair of leather pants with a convenient ass-zipper. They're more than a little silly, but if Fury is going to start taking his rightful place as the center of attention every once in a while, he's going to need them. The pants arrive on the morning of day four, and Clint carefully tucks them away. On the morning of day five, Fury comes slinking in with a bag that Clint would bet good money contains at least fifty percent of his sex toy collection. He comes prowling into the kitchen, rain beaded on his jacket like it would on the coat of a battered old tomcat, and Clint grins at him from the stove.

"Hey, you want pancakes?" Clint has just poured the first few for Phil, and looks back to them immediately, not wanting to miss that key moment when they start to bubble.

"Probably," Fury mutters, setting the bag down and coming up to hug Clint from behind. He's tenser than Clint is expecting, but relaxes against him with a faint sigh.

"Man, I was gonna give you shit about your bag of dildos, but I guess it took something out of you, huh?" Clint says softly putting his hand over Fury's, and Fury chuckles.

"Maybe a little," he admits, muffling himself in Clint's hair. "You can give me shit later, maybe."

For now, of course, Clint gives him pancakes and acceptance. The three of them sit around the kitchen table and eat in the sort of familial mostly-silence that Clint has come to love so much. In a life with so many meals eaten under the gun after a childhood of never knowing when Dad would get violent at the dinner table, moments like this are particularly precious to him. Just the light pattering of rain on the windows, and occasional requests to pass the syrup.

After breakfast they spend a rainy morning as it should be spent: snuggled up together under blankets with a warming drink. Phil does paperwork like the good little Do Bee that he is, and Nick cuddles Clint like his life depends on it. He buries his face in Clint's hair and breathes in his scent, holding him so tightly that it's just barely still comfortable. For his part, Clint nuzzles into Nick's pajama top, feeling the biggest scars as ridges and dips under the fabric. He can also feel Nick's heartbeat, a little fast with nerves, but nothing too bad.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Clint mumbles into Fury's chest, and he feels the chuckle that gets more than he hears it

"I know that, honey," he murmurs, petting Clint's hair. "It's about getting up the nerve to do what I do want to."

"I did buy you special pants," Phil says, not even looking up from his paperwork.

"Of course you bought me special fucking pants," Fury grumbles. "Where are they?"

"Clint?" Phil murmurs, and Clint groans and tears himself away from Fury to go to the closet and fetch the pants.

"They have a convenient ass-zipper," Clint chirps, piling them into Fury's arms.

"Of course they do," he mutters, sitting on the edge of the bed and examining them. They may be a bit silly, but they're good pants, heavy and soft and sleek. Fury runs his hands over them for a while, and then takes a deep breath. "Okay," he says softly, and gets up, retreating to the bathroom to change into them. The wait is almost unbearable, and Clint settles for sucking on Phil's fingers and making pathetic little noises in his throat.

"Easy," Phil murmurs, gently stroking Clint's tongue, "easy, sweetheart."

Clint just sighs, and whimpers as Phil's fingers slip out so that he can slide that hand under Clint's shirt and pinch his nipple. By the time Nick reemerges, Clint is naked and hard, and he can't help laughing at the look Fury gives him. With both of them dressed and Fury so serious Clint feels like a puppy, some ludicrous, wiggly, and beloved thing. Fury smiles softly, and then starts to set his stage, pulling a chair up near the bed and covering it with a towel before he drags his bag over next to it and pulls out a huge pump bottle of lube. He pauses for a moment, looking at his right glove, and then pulls it off, revealing mangled fingers and terrible, ropey scarring that makes it hard to believe that hand still works. Clint wants to put his mouth all over it, but he stays quiet and lounges with Phil in his arms instead, supporting him as both of them watching Fury. 

Clint can only imagine what their combined scrutiny must feel like for a guy like Nick, but he only shivers a little, swallows hard, and unzips the pants, letting his cock and balls hang out. He's barely even starting to get hard, but as he grips himself and grits his teeth, he hardens up a little. Any time Nick jerks off it looks like it hurts, and now is no exception. Clint bites his lip and hugs Phil tightly, watching as Fury works himself with the usual slow brutality. He's panting softly now, the ragged sound loud in the silence of the room, and there's slick gleaming at the tip of his cock.

Clint actually can't help a quiet moan as Fury finally lubes up his first two fingers. The second one is missing the last joint, and Clint is filled with the old urge to cover it in kisses, but of course now is the time to watch. Fury reaches back and pants harshly, working himself open. Even with Fury's best efforts, they can hardly see a thing, and that just makes it all more excruciating. Fury starts to ride his fingers just a little, eyes shut and mouth half-open.

Just when Clint is about to lose his goddamn mind, Fury finally slides his fingers out and his clean glove pulls a slender black dildo out of the bag. It's a nice, basic model, and once Fury slicks up its tapered head and gets it lined up, it goes in easily. Fury bites his lip to keep some noise back and Clint is never going to forgive him for that, and then starts to ride the dildo. The rhythm is a little awkward at first, but soon Fury is smoothly fucking himself on its full length. 

Fury groans through gritted teeth, and Phil murmurs, "It's okay to let it out, Nick."

Fury makes a kind of sobbing noise and speeds up a little, his clean hand clutching at the arm of the chair while the other wraps around his cock again. Clint hadn't realized how desperately he would want to touch Fury during all this, and knots his hands up in the actual pajama top Phil is wearing because Phil is adorable, biting onto his shoulder.

"Trying to keep yourself out of trouble?" Phil murmurs, and Clint chuckles, not letting go.


	2. Chapter 2

Fury speeds up and then slides off of the black dildo, panting. He sets it aside and his trembling hand digs into the bag again, pulling out the pink one. It's just as huge as Clint remembers it, and Fury trembles as he covers it in lube. Clint wants to let him know that he can take it easy, but instead he shuts up and watches as Fury gets the massive thing situated under him. It looks impossible for a minute and then he's sinking down so slowly, mouth hanging open again to let out voiced exhales, soft, lost noises on each breath. Clint had figured that Fury must love this thing if he keeps it around and uses it on guests, and now he cries out, jetting a little precome as he works his way down. Clint remembers how impossible that stretch had felt and groans, squirming against Phil. 

"Fffuck," he mutters as Fury grinds down on to the dildo, taking almost all of it. Fury sits there and just pants for a long moment before he finally starts to move. Soon he's riding it harder than Clint could take anything that big, chest heaving as the whole chair shifts a little against the floor with the force he's using.

By now Clint is so hard he aches, and he shifts just enough to reach his cock, moaning as he finally grips it. Phil chuckles, and takes himself in hand as well, both of them watching Fury as he shakes and sweats and starts to completely fall apart. He looks more helpless than Clint has ever seen him, fucking himself harder and harder. He doesn't get much louder but his noises are ragged and desperate, and he's pouring precome now. Clint groans, desperate to be allowed to lick it up, but settles for just gripping himself a little harder. Fury whimpers, and Phil slides out of bed. Clint would complain more about this, but Phil goes to stand behind the chair, leaning down to whisper something into Fury's ear that makes him gasp and then whimper, shaking.

"Come on, boss," Clint murmurs, eyes locked on Fury as he strokes himself. "Let it go, let us see you come."

Fury lets out a desperate sob and finally does, hips bucking as he comes for what feels like forever, groaning deep in his chest. He tips forward almost enough to fall out of the chair, and Phil puts his hands on Fury's shoulders to help hold him into it. Fury struggles to catch his breath, and then he and Phil pause to watch as Clint groans and comes all over his hand. Clint can feel their gaze, and it's a long time before he can stop shaking. Well before it stops, Phil kisses the side of Fury's head and comes back to the bed to hold Clint and then be jerked off, because there's no way Clint can resist. He wishes he still had the energy to suck him off, but this is good, too. Phil clings to him, and moans into his mouth when Clint kisses him. A moment later they're looking back at Fury, who smiles, the massive pink dildo perched on the arm of the chair with the black one.

Clint grins back at him. "Hey, boss. Give us a second and we'll help you clean up."

In a second, they do help him clean up. Phil takes the dildos to wash them and Clint launders the towel while Fury takes the first shower. He's still in there when Clint and Phil reconvene with a plate of sandwiches, and after Clint has shoved several into his mouth, he starts to worry just a bit. Right when he's on the verge of going to make sure that Fury hasn't slipped and hit his head or something, he comes out on a cloud of steam, looking fragile and human and completely touchable. He crawls into bed without much hesitation, and he's trembling when they cuddle him between them. Fury whimpers quietly and clings to both of them.

"Can I kiss you, boss?" Clint murmurs, and Fury nods. 

He's a little steadier when Clint kisses him, calmer, and he even opens up for Clint's tongue, something he almost never does. There are little scars on his own tongue, and Clint rubs over them, wishing that Fury could see how little he minds anything about his scarring except the distress it causes Fury. Fury rumbles deep in his chest and shifts a little onto his back, pulling Clint on top of him. The full-length press of their bodies makes Clint shiver, and he can't help a quiet moan. Fury chuckles into his mouth, one big hand giving Clint's ass a friendly squeeze.

"Getting it up again already, huh?" he murmurs, kissing the corner of Clint's mouth.

"Y-yeah," Clint admits, and he squirms a little, groaning as Fury's other hand comes up and keeps his hips still. After a second it's unbearable, and then Fury is guiding him in an unbearably slow rhythm, grinding Clint's cock against his thigh. Clint whimpers and lets him, biting his lip to keep from saying anything stupid.

"Good boy," Phil murmurs, kissing Clint's cheek, and he lets out a quavering whine. Phil chuckles and hugs him tightly. "Like it when I call you that?"

"Yeah," Clint whimpers, his voice cracking. "Like being your boy," he adds, almost too quiet for either of them to hear. 

He hides his face in Fury's shoulder and then bites onto his shirt, whining through his nose as Fury finally lets him speed up. He cries out when he comes, and it goes on for a long time, leaving him a helpless, shaking mess in their arms. Fury covers him in kisses, and all Clint can do is moan, overwhelmed by this much contact. Phil's arms around him help him stay grounded, and for a long time he just tries to keep breathing. He whines when Fury pulls away just enough to mop him up, and Fury chuckles.

"Hush your noise," he murmurs, and Clint shudders in silence as Fury cleans his oversensitized skin, and then can't help a happy little mewl when Fury pulls him into his arms again. "Phil, our boy really is a noisy little thing," he says, and Clint whines, hiding his face again.

"He's also shy," Phil says, and kisses the top of Clint's head, "so be nice."

"I'm trying, but I'll have to go change these pants."

Clint would say 'don't leave me' for a joke, but he's worried that it might end up sounding completely sincere. Instead he keeps quiet and just lets Fury pass him to Phil. He can't help a little whine, but then Phil is holding him close and pressing a kiss to the top of his head and Clint is so suddenly grateful for Phil being alive that he does start to cry. Just a little, but he's kind of appalled at himself. Phil takes it in stride, and just murmurs soothingly until Fury can return with fresh, jizz-free pajama bottoms. He grumbles softly as he tucks himself in against Clint's back, and kisses the nape of his neck, and everything is all right.


End file.
